Sinfonia
by MasterShaper
Summary: Prequel of sorts to my oneshot 'Purge'. The birth, life, and death of the Hogwarts Symphony Orchestra, with glimpses of what the Hogwarts Quidditch League once was. Inspired by 'Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness', 'The Red Violin', and 'Le Concert'. AU. IN PROGRESS.


**Prologue – Vorspiel**

_May 8__th__, 1898_

Elderly eyes flicked rapidly from left to right, scanning through the words inked neatly in black letters over the curiously smooth parchment in their owner's hands. The words themselves were equally as smooth, and did not appear to have been written with a quill.

As a matter of fact, the man who had written them hardly looked like a wizard. If anything, he was dressed like a Muggle, himself.

"Is this meant in jest, Mister… Williamson?" the aged wizard asked, setting the strange parchment down, and shifting his gaze towards his shocking visitor, whose name he barely managed to skim off the parchment. Not that the man had dropped in unannounced, but rather, his appearance and reason – or possibly reasons – for visiting were definitely not something he would have thought to be part of his Headmaster's duty.

His visitor offered him a small smile, and shook his head. "I can assure you, sir, that I am completely serious. That is but the introductory letter, and should you desire to discuss the details, I have on my person the details in a propositional document."

"And why didn't you include those details in your original letter?"

"Suffice to say, some of the people I approached weren't as hospitable as you have been, and my first four letters were never answered. After the first two I separated the part with the details, as I'm sure you would understand."

"Pardon me for asking, but in matters such as these, I simply must ask: who were they?"

"Headmaster Antoine, Headmaster Lenkovich, and Maestros Vermel as well as Timelli," replied the visitor, sounding completely nonplussed, and causing him to raise an eyebrow. "I take it you are familiar with those names, sir? And frankly, since I'm not keen on spending too much time on a wild goose chase, will I have to add _your_ name to the list, Headmaster Fronsac?"

Fronsac leaned back in his seat, and regarded the young man seated before him wary eye. Certainly, this bounder had Gryffindor-ish courage, and by the wording of his introductory letter – and goodness, had it been a _letter_ – he definitely had the ambition of a Slytherin to go with the red blood.

"Pray tell, young man, which house were you in during your education here?" he asked the young man, as he removed his eyeglasses and starting polishing the lenses with his wand.

"None, sir," was the nonchalant answer. "I'm a Squib, you see. Never got my acceptance letter, and so I ended up studying in the Muggle world, instead."

Now _that_ was interesting indeed. "You do realize that while we seem to be headed for the Great Integration – and you never heard me saying this, mind you, since I'm quite good with Obliviate, if I do say so myself – most of the faculty and students here are somewhat averse to the idea of non-magical… intrusion?"

Williamson shrugged. "It's in the details, sir. I might not be a Ravenclaw as you were, but I did make a few good friends in the Muggle world, and one of them is a frustratingly capable barrister-at-law. He could most probably bend you over, bugger you, and make you think you'd slipped and impaled yourself on him."

Fronsac choked about as soon as the idea of being buggered by a lawyer connected with his conscious mind, and it took nearly three minutes of being Williamson rubbing his back before he could get himself together and squeeze out an old man's wheezing, rasping laugh.

"Sir?" Williamson enquired politely, the steel behind his words as obvious as a solar eclipse.

"Let's have a gander at those details, then, shall we?" Fronsac smiled, gesturing to the strange-looking trunk which Williamson had carried into the office with him. "I'll wager you're going to have me strong-arm my staff into securing protection for your band of Squibs, and goodness knows what else!"

Williamson merely offered him a nod and a guarded smile, but the relief emanating from the young man was obvious enough, even without Legilimency. "You're more right on that count than you think, Headmaster."

"And of course, I'm wondering… just what stationery did you use? The feel of this parchment is simply delightful, and I'm certain these words weren't written by any quill, eagle feather or otherwise."


End file.
